Why I Hate Cheerleaders: A Memoire
by Helene Fyne
Summary: When I was a kid in high school, the cheerleaders liked to taunt me. Rated M for language, sexual themes, and dark jacked up crap.


When I was a kid in high school, the cheerleaders liked to taunt me. I was painfully withdrawn and equally as obvious about wanting to touch them, to be a part of their circle for the amount of time it would take me to wrap those smooth tan legs around my hips and sink myself into them. But of course, that never happened.

I still remember the night they invited me to the house party. I hadn't meant to end up at the football game, but the lights and the noise, and the fact that my parents were arguing again, had led me there. Our team had won, 42 to 18. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. I was on my way out, almost to the bicycle rack where my only mode of transportation lay chained. The captain of the pom-squad was the first to approach me. She was swaying her hips and the short skirt was brushing the tops of her thighs as she tossed light blonde hair out of her face. Her eyes were blood shot and her sway was slightly exaggerated and not a little sloppy. I had a feeling she'd been celebrating since half time.

"Hi Gaaabriel," she sung, laughing softly at the way my name sounded on her lips. Her laughter caught the attention of four other girls on her squad, bringing them over to stand in a semi-circle around her. One of them looked slightly nauseous, but every single one of them had that happy glow the whole school seemed to emit when we won a game… and all of them were still sporting the tight purple and gold uniforms with pleats and a mile of leg. I watched them shift for a while, appreciating the tone in their calves and the delicate ankles as they—

"Hello Amber," I said, cutting the thought off before it rushed to my groin and keeping my eyes on the ground. To be quite honest I was surprised she even knew my name. But it wasn't like it was a huge school, and we'd been in the same grade for five years.

"That's a really _great_ vest," she purred, jutting her breasts out and putting her hands on lithe hips. I shifted uncomfortably as the girls around her tittered, tugging at the collar of my shirt and feeling all of the sudden as if the vest my mother made me wear to look more "put together" weighed a thousand pounds.

"Thanks," I muttered, stuffing my hands into my pockets and watching her bare ankles from beneath my lashes. Too many guys seemed to underestimate that part of the feminine anatomy, but to me, they were mesmerizing.

"So, we were wondering if you wanted to come celebrate with us," she slurred, flashing a winning smile and cocking her head to the side. The girl to her right cast a worried glance at Amber before nudging her in the side. The head cheerleader just shoved her away. I had a bad feeling about this.

"I don't know," I said cautiously, "My parents are expecting me home soon and—"

Amber scoffed and the other four giggled. "Come oooon Gabriel! How often are you going to get this opportunity?" She had a point. And the way the girls were twirling their hair around fingers and breathing a little too heavy with flushed cheeks… "Besides," she continued, "I'd just love to have you there." And that was the line that caught me.

I biked six miles that night to reach the party. By the time I was at the front door, hair too long and windblown, the whole thing was under way. One of the junior cheerleaders met me at the door, rolling her eyes and shouting back into the house over the pounding music for Amber. It took the blonde five minutes to reach the door, but when she did, her eyes lit up. Her uniform was damp down the front and smelled of alcohol. My nose wrinkled at the smell of the cheap beer, but I didn't have much time to focus on that. The next thing I knew I was being dragged into the house by my arm and Amber was hanging all over me.

She dragged me over to a chair, through a crowded mass of drunks who all smelled of booze and sweat, and sat me down. She straddled me then, pushing her breasts into my face and grinding her bottom over my privates… It struck me in that moment how very surreal this night had been. I'd gone from painfully alone and sexually frustrated to sitting in a throng of people being tantalized by the hottest girl in school. Me, Gabriel Gray, the son of the towns watch maker. Obscure, introverted, thin, bespectacled… I should have been expecting what came next.

Before I could make sense of anything going on, much less the more than noticeable proof that I'd been harboring lustful thought for the Captain of the pom-squad since Freshman year, she was yanked from my lap, and where before I had been staring at the most perfect pair of breasts I'd ever had the pleasure of viewing up close, now all I could see was a couple hundred pounds of overly muscled quarterback. I knew I was in deep shit when he smiled.

"Hey there, Gray," he said smoothly, leering down at me. My heart beat accelerated more quickly than I had thought possible as Amber started to giggle. Soon her small hands were wrapped around the bulging bicep of the guy I knew she'd been dating for a few months now. My stomach somersaulted and I felt like vomiting.

"So you think its fun to mess around with my girlfriend?" The quarterback asked genially. I shook my head almost violently, trying to shrink back into the chair and failing miserably. He only laughed before back handing me. I tasted blood. "Don't lie to me," he said, crouching down in front of me and grinning the winning grin that had made him not only quarterback, but the president of the student body. "I can see your fucking cock through your geek ass slacks."

I could have melted from shame right them, I wanted to. All that could happen now was pain as the brawny guys fists pounded me into nothing but useless flesh. But he kept smiling and I kept shaking as I stared up at him, glasses slightly askew after the blow he'd dealt me. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, why don't we do something about that?" he said, still smiling. Before I knew it I was surrounded by football players, a pair of them grabbing me by the shoulders to hold me down and another pair on each leg. I remember screaming then, only because the room had gone deadly quiet and the people had backed as far away from us as possible, crushing against the walls as Amber laughed gaily behind her boyfriend. I would have been sick then if a sweaty hand hadn't clamped down over my mouth.

"Amber, baby," the quarterback turned to the head cheerleader, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss that would have made my blood boil under different circumstances. As it was, all I felt was ice in my veins. "Why don't you help this little fucker out with his problem?" She looked confused for a moment before he twisted her arm violently behind her back, and then all I could see was a jolt and a slow smile.

"Sure, Jasper," she said. Her voice sounded uneasy. I struggled violently against the hands holding me down screaming into the one over my mouth. Everyone was watching. I tried to catch the eyes of the people on the fringes, tried to plead, but they were leering, laughing, or trying very hard not to be seen.

Amber sank to her knees in front of me and I felt her hands draw my zipper down and reach into my slacks. It took her a few seconds to free it… the hard on that had suddenly become the center of everyone's attention. Behind Amber, Jasper laughed cruelly. "Is that _it?_" He wanted to know.

By now, there were tears streaming down my face. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see straight as someone fisted their hand in my hair and forced my face down to watch as the girl of my dreams worked her hand busily over my hard shaft.

I came in two minutes flat. The last thing I remembered clearly afterwards was the way Jaspers voice sounded as it said "Pitiful, no staying power at all," and then a burst of pain as fist upon fist descended, knocking me out and showing me exactly why I didn't belong there.

I woke up the next morning, bruised and bleeding with painful, thin cuts along the length of my penis that stung and ached. I think they'd used salt water on them.

That's my experience with cheerleaders, Claire. Maybe you can see why I'm more cautious now, why you've been chained like that, why I've been watching you and trying to learn. I hope you can see why things have to be this way. It's not that you've done anything yourself. A man's just got to protect himself. You understand that, don't you? It's nothing truly _personal._

**_Please remember to review! Your thoughts are the only payment I recieve!_**

**_--Mel_**


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